Detective of GaHoole
by scaryprincess
Summary: AU xover Owls of Gahoole. Scarred Elf owl John finds himself sharing a hollow with the Barn owl, Sherlock, a consultant to the Gaurdians of Gahoole. Together they uncover a plot to send the owl kingdoms in chaos, they have to stop it before it is too late
1. The fall of the Defenders

Scary: watched Owl's of Ga'hoole, read all of the books and even drawn fan art for it. My love for this somehow collided with my love for 'BBC Sherlock' which at first only started with this thought, 'Benedict Cumberpatch's voice from a dragon would be epic but what if from an owl…?' and then, 'What type of owl would he be?' 'What type of owl would John be?'

And so the madness began. AND THERE IS NO GOING BACK!

I have pages, of info and reference pictures for all of them…I'm only writing this for fun btw, I have no beta or editor but I'll try my best.

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><p><span>Owls mentioned or seen in this chapter.

John: (_Micrathene__ whitneyi) _Elf owl. (LOL great things come in small packages, as the saying goes)

Harriett aka Harry: (_Micrathene__ whitneyi_) elf owl

Claire: (_Micrathene__ whitneyi_) elf owl

Mike: (_Speotyto cunicularius)_Burrowing owl.

Sally: (_Otus trichpsis_) Screech Owl

Sebastian: (_Parabuteo unicinctus__) _Harris Hawk

OC owls

Andiron: (_Bubo scandiacus_) Snowy owl

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><p>Chapter One: The fall of the defenders.<p>

_It was utter hagsmire. _

_The battle was sickening, it was not glorious. John fluttered wearily onwards with no end near – his battle claws that once glinted was stained with the blood of the 'pure ones' as they called themselves; the sheer idea that some owls are purer then others was utter rac-drops John had thought. A snowy owl cut though the air near John with it's almost pure white wings; slashing at the breast of the attacking Tyto, redness soaked it's feathers – in a state of shock, it did only to take another raking of the snowy owls talons for it to plummet to the ground._

'_John, are you alright?' The Snowy owl questioned, its greater size compared to Johns once intimidated the blond and brown feathered elf owl but flying and fighting along side of the snowy made them the closest of friends. The Pure ones they were fighting were barely fledged, they seemed to still be owlets that didn't know any better – most fled at the first sign of the group of mixed owls standing to fight for their homes and families; some though, the older and the far more foolish stood their ground and let out their battle shrieks – extending their talons, covered in battle claws that they hardly knew how to use._

_John didn't think it was out of bravery, more out of fear of what the Pure Ones would do to them if they flew off._

'_Yes, just feel sick to my gizzard…'John sighed, staring at the retreating owls and then to his own talons - rusted and sticky with blood._

'_We just have to hold them off till the guardians come' the snowy said lowly his eyes glinting in the pale moonlight, staring at the elf owl in empathy and understanding. The snowys name was Andiron and while he was no guardian (in fact, before this he was a gizzard resister and against battle) he sure had a heart and gizzard of one. _

'_They won't come!' Another owl cried being the pessimistic one in the group muttering of disaster, a long legged burrowing owl called Mike flapped tiredly next to John; not used to so much flight in one night looking wistfully towards the ground. John and Mike were roughly around the same size but John was the far stronger flier and fighter when it came to close combat, Mike had more brownish plumage to Johns blond and on his small wings were speckles of white._

'_Glaux, your beak flapping is frinking me off!' A screech owl muttered, one of the few females of the group and possibly the angriest of all of them, all the time. Brown and white plumage and two tufts on her head that looked like ears, she hovered behind them – head turning sharply tracking any sounds of nosy wing beats that the Pure Ones possessed, one focusing on speed rather than silence that other owls often used._

'_Sally…' Andiron started warningly but even that wouldn't stop the owl from speaking her mind._

'_Andiron lets face it the only real fighters are you and me – we shouldn't have this-this healer and ground dweller in our squadron!' Sally spat glaring at the two smaller owls, 'Glaux, we're lucky we haven't meet any really challenge or these two would be talon fodder' she finished with a huff, dismissing them with an upturned beak._

_John narrowed his eyes at the screech owl, and was tempted to charge at her with talons raised – but he didn't, but Glaux, did he want too._

'_Yeah, John, she's right…we don't stand a chance' Mike admitted, his wing beats becoming weaker and he seemed even smaller then normal – he wilfed at Sally's words probably, wilfing was something that owls did when frightened or if they want to appear smaller._

'_Mike, if you want to leave I won't hold it against you, you tried your best and that's only what we all can do' Andiron said calmly, his snowy white feathers made him seem even scroom-like (that fact alone, and the sheer fearsome gleam in his eyes made a few of the Pure One recruits go yeep at the sight of him)_

'_If you're sure…' Mike said, trying to mask his relief._

'_We're sure' Sally said snidely._

_Mike turned and about to bank to the side, but he paused and looked to John._

'_Are you coming?' _

'_No, Mike-I'll see you later' John clicked his beak and Mike looked like he wanted to say something but he only whispered, 'yeah, see you later…' almost as though he didn't believe he would see John later._

_Mike soon disappeared below them, Sally stared at the retreating burrowing owl and then with a look of derision towards John._

'_Aren't you going to join your little friend?'_

'_No, I'm going to fight till the guardians come; it is only what any decent owl of any kind will do' John then said, fury dripping on every word, 'And Sally, it not about your size but the size of your gizzard and spirit that counts!' The rest of the owls, in their group cheered at that statement and Sally only smouldered like a bonk coal._

'_Hear, hear John!' Andiron cheered. The night skies were clear and it is as though they won the battle, but with the sound of distant wings in the distance made all the owls' wilf except for Andiron and John, afraid of nothing – neither having a family or mate to fight for they were here to fight for themselves and owl kind. Hushed voices muttered throughout the group, some wearing battle claws others just fighting with short talon swords, ice picks, ice swords. They all hovered nervously, not insisting on a frontal attack against an unknown enemy._

'_What's that?'_

'_That's not the sound of owl's wings'_

'_Or owls for that matter'_

'_Steady everyone!' Andiron and then said hushed to John with twinkling eyes, 'The suspense is exciting, isn't it John?'_

'_Yes, it is…' John whispered back, gizzard quivering in the excitement. Keeping up with the snowy's wing beats seemed to become easier as though filled with a new strength._

_When a dark creature flapped towards them, small in appearance to Andiron they first only saw the bird, a Harris Hawk, its black plumage made it almost difficult to see in the night even with the owls sharp eyesight, only the orange-brown on it's start of his wings made him visible. The orange brown eyes glinted and shined like cat eyes in the moonlight. _

'_A Harris hawk?'_

'_What is it doing at night?'_

'_Perhaps the Pure Ones aren't just getting tyto's to do their dirty work anymore' One owl churred, a sound of an owl laughing is different to say the least, his fellows glared at him._

'_They call Harris hawks the "wolves of the sky", they hunt in packs…'_

'_Who cares? Pure One or not, we can take a hawk on!' Sally screeched, some of the fellows agreeing with her in various calls of their species_

'_Let's attack Andiron' Sally called, almost pleading – thirsting for a fight, a better fight._

'_Wait' Andiron said, staring at the hawk; the hawk powered towards them with determined wings._

'_What in hagmire for?'_

'_The hawk hasn't played his talons yet…a fool heads into battle blind, a smart owl heads into battle with their eyes wide open' Andiron muttered, his second eyelid blinked over his eyes. Maybe it was his calm, and his leadership that stopped the nervous twittering doubt in a course of action; John was wrong, Andiron was a Guardian of Ga'hoole on the inside and outside as well._

_Sally wilfed at that, and with a click shut her beak; a reprise from her grating voice was relief to most. _

_As the moon dwenked in the sky, behind the hawk was a vast, writhing shadow of blackness, some of the defenders went yeep at the very sight, thinking it to be the evil boiling over from hagsmire it self – they were saved quickly by their diving companions, righting them as they regained altitude heaving in fear, most looking like they just yarped a pellet._

_John felt fear, excitement as he tensed his talons, battle claws still sharp and ready – all the others around him did the same; trying to not look as scared as they all were._

'_So, the recruits were only talon fodder-how malicious, a distraction till they got the true fighters here' Sally finally spoke, or more like spat, 'Those tyto's make me sick'_

_The hawk let loose a shrill cry, as the shadows behind him became more formed, more leathery wings and with thousands of the beady red eyes._

_The bats were here, but that was not the only danger but it was the hawk had battle claws of his on, tipped with a bonk coal; causing burning death to anyone who flied too close. It was only minutes when the cloud of bats was upon the defenders and the hawk just blended in the sea of black._

_John was fighting for his life, he gauged at the fanged faces that appeared before him in wild abandon, allies were next to him but then disappeared again – the blood lusting cries of the bats drowned out any other sound so John felt like he was all alone, lost in the darkness._

_John was barged and clawed at, it was only when a flash silver came hurtling towards him that, with a parry with his battle claws sparks flew – the wing blade of a bats grinded against his battle claws with a horrible sound. _

_The stunned bat – confused why John was still alive was frozen in shock when John, with a twist in the air; slit the flying rodents' throat, dark blood, almost tarry spilled down and then plummeted down away from the fight right back to hagmire from whence it came._

_John's victory was however short lived as he turned his head sharply up, from above came the snarling hawk, talons a blazing – smaller than most owls but larger then John, it was only then John realised what had occurred. John could see that the hawk used the bats as a distraction, then going in and taking the owls out one by one._

_Feathers of the defenders probably littered the ground, John was thankful that he couldn't see what happened to those unlucky to be caught by the hawk – also thankful that no snowy owl feathers joined in the rain of bloody feathers._

_John tried to dodge, and to get to a weak spot – it's chest, its face or its wings would be the good choice – and avoid those burning talons. It was though the bats were swirling around them like a tornado and John and the hawk were stuck in the eye; they circled each other neither able to get close enough to hurt the other, John felt his heart and gizzard racing. The hawk tilted his head to the side, a smirk played at his beak-one of self satisfaction._

'_Can't believe it, you can fit into my talons you know-what are you an owlet?' The hawk said patronising._

'_For Glaux sake, I'm an elf owl!' John yelled back, he had heard all the jokes associated with his size._

'_So you're saying this is your full grown size? You're so…tiny' the hawk said dumbfounded._

'_Oh frink off!' John snarled, 'Why are you hanging with the pure ones anyway? Your not even a owl, your just a wet pooper!' John charged at the hawk, but the hawk dodged skilfully._

'_Wow, never thought something so small could have such a dirty beak' the hawk blinked at him, and John thought he saw a gleam of admiration. John didn't want it, especially from a murderer._

'_What's your name elf owl?' The hawk asked._

'_What's yours, so I know what to write on the ditch I burn you in' John dodged in the air as he said it, pushing himself higher so he was above the hawk. The gold, orange eyes stared at him in amusement._

_The hawk grinned and slowed his wing beats almost lazily._

'_He calls me Sebastian'_

'_Whose "he"?'_

'_None of your concern, a name for a name that's how we play this game'_

'…_John'_

'_I like it. The elf owl John – suits you' Sebastian laughed, like the owls churr except more uneven and harsh, 'Sadly, John these fellows I'm with want a show' Sebastian sighed looking at the hissing mass of bats around them._

_Sebastian said then, 'I wonder if I can truly fit you in my talons…I wonder'_

_Then he took John by surprise with outstretched talons, tips red hot and smoking, _

_The hawk was about to make a grab for him, burn him alive, a hungry look in the hawks face. _

_John realised with sickness raising, was that the hawk called Sebastian plucked the others alive, the blood left on the hawks beak was proof of that much, Sebastian however was going to cook him with his feathers on when those fire claws clasped onto him._

_It was a flash of white though, that broke though the wall of bats; John thought it was a scroom he was so shocked that he was going to go yeep – the body of white charged into John knocking the smaller owl away – John was stunned, only when the fire claws severed off the scrooms head and the lush red blood flowed down the beautiful whiteness of that body and the disgusting scowl on Sebastian's face was when John found his voice again._

_That was no scroom._

'_ANDIRON!' John screamed, the disembodied head plummeted down to the ground, Sebastian however had a firm grip on the body. Sebastian smirked at it and then at John._

'_Nice meeting you John' the hawk called, letting go of his grip watching with sick satisfaction it plummet to the ground. Sebastian stared at his body talon and then at John, 'Well that was a show!'_

_The bats got closer and closer, with that cruel laugh Sebastian was gone again, hiding among the black – John was going to go yeep, gizzard lurching he was feeling ill; the bats surrounded him with there leather wings and noise, John just closed his eyes, a sharp pain from his left wing was felt but he still didn't open his eyes – John just stoped flying, and the air rushed around him as he got closer to meet the ground._

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><p>John's wide eyes took in his surroundings – not remembering where he was at the moment, dazed as he snapped back to the present. A small hollow in a weak little tree, the nest of his sister if the smell of bingle juice is anything to go by; Harry was fast asleep probably sleeping off the blasted stuff.<p>

He looked outside, taking deep intakes as he stretched his wings – the knotted scar on his left wing ached slightly, the scar had finally healed over but the featherless mark against his person was obvious to every owl was that he was in a battle.

No female wanted to have a mate that had difficultly flying and what kind of father would he make if he couldn't hunt for his owlets? He is unmated therefore and what made it sadder was that he was staying with his drunken sister, Harry wasn't always like this – she had a hollow-mate called Clara, a elf owl like them, but both of them got into a fight and Clara left; Harry wallowing in the bingle juice by her lonesome till her maimed brother came into her care.

'John…?' Harry questioned sleepily, it was night though – sleeping off her drink more like it.

'I can't stay here Harry' John said, 'I need to find a different hollow'

'What, you leaving me?' Harry twisted her beak in a horrid snarl , eyes blazing in drunken fury.

'Harry I'm not leaving you' John said, he would still visit but he couldn't watch as his own sister kill herself.

'Yes you are! You think any female would take you as a mate, rac-drops – just frink off…I don't need you…' Harry slurred and fell asleep again just as quickly as her outburst, John sighed and with a outstretched talon picked up a sling of snake skin (from a rattle snake that Harry once hunted and killed) – most owls knew how to make simple items such as slings, and if you were a blacksmith you could even make even more things – John didn't feel to bad taking this from Harry though, she only used it to carry bingle juice from the grog trees she flew to.

John looked at her one last time, and then hopped out of the hollow perching on the thin branch, he hopped a bit on it, trying to push him up in the air; thankfully they were in a area with raising heat thermals and with a leap he was flying – not as strong as he used to, favouring his uninjured wing better which made his flight pattern uneven, and the need to have regular rests so his wings didn't lock up in mid-flight.

John did not look back only ahead flying towards the large moon glowing in fount of him, riding the thermals with soft wing beats – tomorrow will be a new day.

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><p>TBC?<p>

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><p>Scary princess: You like? Are you interested? Please review: D yes, I use lots of words used in the books but if you are confused by any of the words just drop a line. It felt odd to use owl swear words btw, I giggled when John called Sebastian a 'wet pooper' lol. This originally was going to be a 'prologue' but it became too long.<p> 


	2. The oddity of Sherlock

Thanks for the reviews and the alerts/fav, if you only alerted or faved could you please review as well, I would like to know what you all think. Also any particular bird you want in this story just give a hoot…yes, it is a pun.

BTW might need to do a character page, so I can keep track of what owl/bird they are, as well as you all keeping track. Have no Beta, but when I finish it I'll get someone to edit it before I post it as complete.

Owls/birds/animals mentioned or seen in this chapter.

Sherlock: (_Tyto alba) _Barn owl

Mycroft: (_Tyto alba_) Barn owl

Anthea: (_Asio clamator) _Stripped owl

John: (_Micrathene whitneyi) _Elf owl.

Mrs Hudson: (_Ramphotyphlops proximus) __Blind nest snake_

Harriett aka Harry: (_Micrathene whitneyi_) elf owl

Claire: _(Micrathene whitneyi)_ elf owl

Mike: _(Speotyto cunicularius)_ Burrowing owl.

Sarah: _(Speotyto cunicularius)_ Burrowing owl.

Guardians of Ga'hoole (basically the peace keepers/police)

Sally: (_Otus trichpsis_) Screech owl. She became a guardian after how well she fought.

Anderson, Mike: (_Otus trichpsis_) Screech owl.

Lestraude, Greg: (_Strix nebulosa) _Great grey owl.

Pure Ones/followers (?) Sebastian: (_Parabuteo unicinctus__) _Harris Hawk

OC owls Andiron: (_Bubo scandiacus_) Snowy owl

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><p>Chapter Two: The oddity of Sherlock.<p>

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><p>John must have been flying though half the night till he decided to perch and rest – dawn was coming and he had no intention of finding out what being mobbed by crows would feel like. Undoubtedly, the blackness of their feathers would remind him of the bats-No! John shook himself of those thoughts as his wing began to ache again. John found a low hollow in a burnt out tree stump but it would have to do – he glided inside, sinking his talons in the old moss – it was a abandoned nest hollow; the remains of the rabbit ear moss was enough to go by (rabbit ear moss was the most sought after moss for building nests, the softest in all of the known owl kingdoms) It resembled that of an owl nest, but the unmistakable smell of crow lingered - John looked at some shards that he first thought was pieces of black shale, but with a closer look it was glossy pieces of black egg shell.<p>

It made John uneasy just to look at, as a healer he often visited brooding mothers just to check if everything was okay, if each egg had a steady heart beat and how the soon to be mother was – John was often called to make sure when the egg hatched that the owlet was healthy and well formed – but within all his years, John never encountered an owl egg was as black and brittle like shale. This nest has been abandoned for years, five or more, the insects making it their home which was good because John was feeling peckish.

'They say that a hagsfiend queen nested there, anyone who rests there are never seen or heard from again' A voice called from below, startling poor John who poked his head out to see, it had a familiar tilt to the voice and John found himself staring at the brown and white feathered face of the burrowing owl, an old friend, Mike.

'Figures you would fly to a dangerous nest' Mike called, his long featherless legs seemed always very odd to John, but he had seen the bird run on land – Mike was a fast runner and exceptionally good at tracking .

'Nice to see you too, Mike – long time no see' John said with a grin on his beak.

'John never thought I would see you in my neck of the woods' Mike churred, 'or my neck of dunes really…' Mike flared out his short wing to the sand and low shrubs.

That's Kuneer for you' John said, poking though his sling with his beak made from rattle snake skin – that reminds him to make a new one; he picked up a shard of eggshell and kept it for later observation - he wouldn't tell Mike of course, no need to have him cry of misfortune.

'Get out of there! Or the scroom's will whisk you away to the spirit woods' Mike called again, a little uneasily – a superstition that most desert dwellers had (as a elf owl and a healer that travelled he knew most of them already) As Hagfiends, creatures that were half owl, half crow they were known to be unfeeling and without a gizzard – they were the villains in most of the legends and were often the thing that owlets were freighted of most.

It is said that they steal away owl eggs, because they are unable to have their own and turn them into 'changelings'. A silly superstition only reinforced by the parents saying that if you misbehave the Hagfiend Queen will take you away; the poor owlets were petrified of the very idea of this monster hybrid. John hopped out of the hollow and to the ground, only to be met with an odd movement of Mike's talons and a weird clicking noise of his beak.

'Mike…what are you doing?' John said lowly.

'Banishing any haggishness that attached itself to you, what did you think I was doing?'

'Oh? That's all. Sorry for asking, I should've known' John said sarcastically, feathers ruffled, 'I can't believe you believe those old blind snake stories still – we're not owlets anymore'

'It was so simple then…' Mike sighed, 'It seemed only yesterday we were branching, first fur on bones ceremony' Mike hummed and then hopped closer to John.

'Hey, I don't think you told me why you're here?'

'Left Harry's hollow' John huffed, staring at Mike – it was entertaining to see how alert burrowing owls are; all the time.

'Really? How's your sis doing by the way' Mike asked well naturally.

'Drunk most of the time, other times sleeping' John said bitterly

'Ah, her love for bingle juice never stopped did it' Mike churred, but then coughed as though bringing up a pellet but the cough was only from the chilling look the healer elf owl gave him.

'Do you have a place to stay?' Mike said, recovering quickly – trotting around never being still.

'I would but apparently my choices are diminished seeing as though it was nested in by a hagsfiend' John flared a wing to the hollow that he was called down from.

The eggshell shard still safely in his rattle snake skin sling bag.

'A hagsfiend queen' Mike corrected.

'I doubt if I set myself as a healer then, everyone would be too superstitious of me here' John sighed

'You could live in a burrow, like me' Mike hooted cheerfully.

'…I appreciate the thought, but I don't think if someone is ill they would be inclined to go down into the ground' nor was John inclined to live underground either.

'Your loss' Mike flexed his wings, an owl shrug, 'Have you ever thought to get a hollow mate?'

'Mike, because of my wing I don't think …' John was about to start.

'Glaux, wasn't talking about a female – talk about a one tracked mind' Mike churred, 'Just another owl to share a hollow with'

'Share a hollow with another owl…I guess that's alright, but where in the name of Glaux would I find one that would want to live with me.' John asked. Mike began to churr, small body shaking with glee.

'What?' John questioned peering into the large eyes of the burrowing owl.

'You know, you're the second owl to ask me about that today' Mike churred some more, 'I can show you tomorrow night, while the owl doesn't sleep day or night, the others do. Besides I don't want to be mobbed by crows' Mike said, staring at the first light that appeared, a small sliver. 'I don't want you staying in that hollow, stay with us – we got us some rattlesnake and scorpion if your hungry'

'Mike I'm not that comfortable underground…' John said, not seeing the sky was unnatural to him.

'I insist, what kind of friend would I be if I left you to the wild animals'

John was tired and hungry, he exhaled finally giving in, 'Fine, I'll stay tonight – but I won't change my mind about living in the ground, a tree or at least hollow is what I want'

'Picky, picky' Mike hummed, 'The entrance is this way' running towards the den, once used by a fox or wild dog now overtaken by a horde of Burrowing owls.

'Been so long, you have to meet everyone'

'Everyone?' John said wearily

'Well you know grandad, grandma, mum and dad; there is auntie and uncle …' Mike muttered, trying to remember who was in the den with him. Burrowing owls as well as there appearance being odd – they unlike most owls stay with their own till they need a bigger burrow. The mere thought was enough to make John's gizzard freeze when five or more heads popped out of the ground, similar markings of Mikes with some changes as well as the colour of their plumage.

John recalled faintly as an owlet, Mikes parents and grandparents that was all but it looked like they had their own city for burrowing owls, though winding tunnels lit by snake skin lanterns; the lights moving and fluttering – firefly lanterns. John couldn't help but feel amazed and awed by these odd little owls, no bigger than he but equipped with more talent then he could ever hope for. His respect for them still was present, but John couldn't help but feel uneasy in the company of all these owls.

'Family, this is John. John this is family' Mike introduced, with a tilt of his head and a gesture of a wing.

'Hi' a young female with light red to her colouring, spots on her breast and the largest eyes John had ever seen. John couldn't help but grin at her, though a burrowing owl she was very lovely looking – the odd long legs seemed to suit her and make her move around with grace.

'Mum, he is the same size as us' a younger owl muttered, a young male voice laced with confusion. He appeared to be the youngest, and the newly fledged.

'Is he a burrowing owl?' he questioned, and as John was about to correct the young lad but he was interrupted before he had a chance.

'Mike, had I known you were bringing company I would have preened the young'uns a little!'

'Shut your beaks, it is first light and some of us need some shut eye!' The older one crowed, his feathers taking on a ruffled appearance, and some bold spots were on his body.

'Really Edgar, no need to be grumpy' the equally old, but far more cheerful, grandmother of Mike cooed at her mate.

'You're all yoicks!' A voice snarled further in the burrow, making them all turn their heads – using that Glaux given extra bone in their neck, to turn at an angle which other animals would say was odd.

'Oh John, I remember when you were only an owlet – a wee little thing!' Mikes mother churred ignoring the voice in the burrow; John couldn't help but be amused at how she looked like Mike – though slightly bigger. 'Mum, we all were wee little things' the voice called again.

'But John was cuter than you!' The kindly voice of Mike's mother disappeared, replaced by a shrill scream – making all wilf, except for grandpa who just nodded off to sleep. John feeling dread as the group continued to argue amongst their selves (one still in the burrow). Mike just let it unfold, probably learnt to let it run its course without inferring or joining.

'Great to come back' Mike said with a smile, only met with John's gaping beak. Wishing to stay in the haunted hollow with risk of loosing his soul rather than this at the moment, Glaux, John thought his family was bad. 'Everyone shut it! John here is probably tired, hungry and needs a good cup of milk berry tea' the female burrowing owl thundered at the family, making welcome silence – it was the owl that John found that he liked very much, such a funny creature; able to make older owls bow their beaks in shame in petty arguments.

'Sorry, Sarah…' the young lad cooed lowly.

'Well, Sarah can look out for John and we'll all get some shut eye…' Mikes mother churred and then looked to her own father who was sleeping deeply,

'Oh rac-drops…someone help me move Grandpa'

'Mother said a bad word! Mother said a bad word!' the lad twitted, flapping his barely fledged wings.

'Grandpa, will say even worse words if we leave him to the feral cats and dogs' Mike reminded the lad, everyone helping dragging the sleeping senior – mumbling mind you – into the depths of the burrow leaving John and Sarah at the entrance.

'You're an elf owl aren't you?' Sarah questioned excited, 'I meet so few owls nearly the same size of me, it's so grand talking to one in the eye rather their chest for once'

'Ah yes, I am' John said, surprised by her enthusiasm.

'Which part of Kuneer do you hail from?' Sarah asked.

'The outskirts I suppose, though I was born deeper in the desert – do you live here?'

'Well, temporary - Grandpa got himself moon blinked a few weeks ago and I nursed him back to health'

'I didn't know Mike had any female relative's – well young female relatives' John corrected himself.

'He doesn't' Sarah said, but then her feathers became ruffled as she was flustered and embarrassed, 'we're not mates before you ask, Mike is a nice guy but he is – well, Mike'

'Don't worry I understand perfectly' John churred.

'I hail from the Great Ga'hoole tree' Sarah's chest puffed out proudly, 'I'm a healer there'

'Really, I'm a healer too!' John hooted pleased.

'Really?' Sarah let out a happy shree and if any possible her eyes got even bigger in admiration. John found himself liking her immensely; as though her happiness was contagious he felt his gizzard lift the heaviness he felt before.

'You look a little peaky, I caught a scorpion too many for dinner – would you like that?' She asked, if not shyly.

'Very much so' John agreed, John couldn't refuse such an offer. With a shared look and glance the burrowing owl Sarah, took the elf owl John, deeper in the burrow. And strangely enough John never thought of the lack of the stars, but focusing on the soft glow of firefly lanterns in Sarah's lovely eyes.

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><p>'Why you sighing?' Mike questioned while flying, staring at the elf owl gliding on the wind gracefully.<p>

'I'm not sighing' John defended, pumping his wings some more. It was the next night and they were now staring into the greenness of a forest, even at night John could see several shades of green and alive with the activity of other nocturnal birds.

'Oh yes you are, like a – a well, I don't have a word for it but stop it it's frinking me off'

They flew in companionable silence only to be broken by Mike's gaping face of understanding.

'Oh no' Mike moaned in despair

'Oh no, what?' John asked lowly.

'RAC-DROPS! You're sighing about Sarah...you're my old friend John but I refuse to hand her over without a fight!' Mike turned on John, puffing up trying to intimidate – but to John Mike was looking quite silly as they still were in flight.

'Huh? Wait – I only like Sarah as a…' John began to say.

'STAY AWAY FROM OUR WOMEN, JOHN!' Mike all but screamed at John, few birds below took off in freight.

'I only like her as a FRIEND, Mike. A platonic friend…' John answered, mentally adding to himself, 'with the prettiest eyes and plumage…'

'Oh – well that's okay then…' Mike conceded, shooting John a look every so often.

'How close is this owl's hollow to the Great Ga'hoole Tree?'

'Why do you want to know?' Mike crowed suspiciously, comical large eyes narrowed at him.

'Apparently they have an impressive library, second to the Glaux brothers retreat' John said, well, that was partially the truth the other truth was that he promised Sarah he would visit her there – and who knows, he may even lend his services there.

'Yeah, I suppose it is close – he lives in a Ga'hoole tree, by the river – just follow that river and if you can get past the storms at sea it would lead you straight to there' Mike said, using the air thermals to glide – small wings outstretched and flight primaries flared out.

'Speaking of the tree – there she is'

Mike dived down and John could only follow – his wing had acted up awhile ago but Mike was very patient, perching down with him in the trees. John's stubby tail feathers however twitched in annoyance with the burrowing owl kept glancing at his scar when he thought John wasn't looking. Pity, was one thing John didn't want or need. They glided into the deep green, the soft churning of the river was heard nearby but hidden from view as they continued to sail though the air till a large branch jutted out of the surprisingly large (not as large as the Great Ga'hoole tree though), it appeared to have two hollows or even more large hollows in the tree. The dim noise of nesting families and newly mated filled John's ears as he got close enough, though it was completely silent The burrowing owl and the elf owl outstretched their talons latching onto the branch tightly, a perch outside a wide gaping hollow – the dim lighting made it difficult to see what the inside looked like.

'Sherlock…?' Mike asked, warily in the darkened hollow John followed a bit behind.

Like the burrows of Mikes family and friends, this Sherlock seemed to employ a similar idea of lanterns with fireflies. Though, scorch marks were charred into the flesh of the tree - possibly caused by the burning of embers inside in the past. Mike sighed, walking over to the lantern by the entrance; a piece of material was thrown over it making the hollow even darker, the inside with speckled blue light. Mike removed it with an outstretched talon making the hollow instantly lit up – John had to blink at the sudden light.

It was a quite large hollow, it had two shelves, one the same level as them and one were the hollow's ground rose to another ledge – quite high roofed, and it made John think it wasn't naturally made. Mike hopped inside calling the owls name over and over again, Mike hopped over odd things – all things that the 'Others' once used and owned; some owls collected odds and ends from this extinct creature – for interest sake. But on the ground of the hollow, lined with moss and feathery down and what looked like a long piece of material (the stuff that dulled the lighting) blue in colour and it looked as though it had seen better days, a wooden instrument; well the remains really – it looked well played by the talon scratch marks, the once varnished item had deep talon marks as though an owl perched on it.

'Maybe he has gone out hunting?' John said with a shiver of his feathers, an owl shrug.

'No he was on a case, he doesn't eat or hunt on a case' Mike responded.

John tilted his head, and about to ask about that odd statement but before he could – in a shadowy corner was a skull of an 'Other', John had seen them before – especially in Kuneer, the desert sun bleached and preserved them but it was not the skull that his attention drew to.

It was the owl that was perched on it.

It was a barn owl that stared at him very intently, his heart shaped mask – a trademark for all tyto's – was not just white, light brown feathers around his eyes,(the odd colour they were for a owl, a grey blue with the black pupil) the ridge of his beak was a even darker brown. Beyond his face, he had a dark feathered hood with some dark feathers sticking up in disorder – a dark rim around his neck as his body was a soft brown bleeding into white and his darkly coloured wings kept tightly to his body. The feathered legs ended with sharp talons digging in the ivory bone below him, as owls goes he seemed extremely underfed – the only bulk seemed to be his lush, glossy feathers. John tried not to wilf at the intense gaze still on him.

'Sherlock, you know when you were talking about a hollow mate' Mike said, 'I'll like you to meet John…'

'Which battle were you in?' Sherlock droned interrupting the burrowing owl, 'The fall of the defenders or the battle of the ice claws?'

'What? How did you…'

'Just answer the question John' Sherlock said, a smooth sound to it.

'The fall of the Defenders, was the battle I was in' John said slack-beaked.

Sherlock seemed to appear pensive then sighed, 'You'll do'

'Huh?' John and Mike said in unison.

'You'll do as my hollow mate' Sherlock said blandly and then added, 'I suppose a congratulations are in order, there have been many who haven't meet my criteria' Sherlock shrugged, hopped down from the skull and to the far war which had crossed out dashes – as if he was counting the poor unfortunates who he rejected out right.

'You know, letting me know your criteria would've made my life a whole lot better' Mike said sullenly, obviously the first time he had heard that such a thing existed.

'Wait, don't you want to know about me first?' John asked, becoming quite flustered.

'You're John – an elf owl, born in Kuneer judging by the sling on your shoulder made from rattlesnake skin; a type of snake that is plentiful and a favourite food to most desert owls.'Sherlock paused, 'But judging by the craft that created it, it was a relative or someone close to you that made it – it however, looks not looked after so it was not always yours, it is stained and reaks of bingle juice however and gifts of rattlesnake skin is common for females giving presents to males they are interested in. So it was a gift, not to you; you would've treasured it if it was, it was a item that was in the possession of your drunkard brother however'

Sherlock clicked his beak when he finished returning to his thoughtful look.

'That was…amazing!' John let out an awed shree.

'Really?' Sherlock said surprised, twisting his head to look directly to him.

'Glaux yes!' John said amazed.

'Normally people just tell me to frink off' Sherlock said quietly, preening his feathers in nonchalance but John could see that the praise made him puff up – enjoying the ego stoking a lot.

'Well that's sorted' Mike churred looking between the bigger barn owl and the smaller elf owl, 'If anyone cares, I'll best be getting back before the others declare me eaten by a racoon' With that he charged out of the hollow, heading back to Kuneer even before John could say good bye.

* * *

><p>John found himself alone with the bizarre barn owl called Sherlock, the barn owl larger than he with a larger wing span as well - the barn owl could probably count the beats of John's heart, amazing hearing did these tyto's have.<p>

'This is not my own hollow, it is managed and looked after by Mrs Hudson' Sherlock began, John snapped himself from staring too much at Sherlock's facal disk, quite lovely and handsome as most Barn owls.

'Oh?'

'Don't eat her and out of respect for her - please don't bring snakes back from hunting' Sherlock said dully continuing to preen and puff his feathers.

'Eat her?' John began to question only to have his answer slither though a small hole.

'Hello dearies, oh, Sherlock you have a friend with you!' a kindly voice called out, John saw that it was a mother of pearl coloured blind nest snake. She appeared too quickly for him to hide the rattlesnake skin sling bag. 'Mrs Hudson, John is my new hollow mate' Sherlock introduced the elf owl, who would never eat snake again after hearing one speaking so kindly to him.

'Oh? Be so good to have another in this big hollow…your brother, Mycroft, was so very kind to give it to you' Mrs Hudson sighed.

'All the better to spy on me…' Sherlock muttered bitterly.

'What was that, dear?' Mrs Hudson called, 'Mumbling is unbecoming of a young barn owl'

'Nothing of importance' Sherlock turned his beak up and away from the reprimanding snake.

'You need to keep an eye on him John' Mrs Hudson said conspiratorially, 'Sherlock gets bored quiet easily'

'I can hear a heartbeat of a mouse, so I can hear you Mrs Hudson' Sherlock said lowly.

'I'll try' John churred, feathers ruffling as the snake got closer – the drawn out sigh from Sherlock was heard.

'I like this one – oh look! He is nearly the same height as me' Mrs Hudson cooed curling around John, staring at him where her blind eyes were – John tried not to panic.

'An elf owl, haven't meet one in years – simply marvellous!' Mrs Hudson unfurled herself and began to slither away as she said, 'I'll make you a cup of some milk berry tea, and I'll leave Sherlock to show you around' When she vanished, Sherlock loomed over the elf owl with gleaming eyes.

'What did I miss?' Sherlock demanded.

'Nothing much except – well, my brother is actually a sister – Harry is short for Harriett' John answered.

'There's always something!' Sherlock let out an agitated shree and John couldn't stop the churr's that escaped him. Well, this was a change; John could feel that he would like this change deep in his gizzard.

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><p>TBC?<p>

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><p>Scary: Sup, thanks for the reviews and alerts. Keep them coming so I can write some more, be motivated to write some more anyway. fanfiction net, what tha hell did you do to my spacing? fixed it but something wierd happened before. Don't know if it was my settings or not...<p> 


	3. Owl napped

Scary: thanks for the comments, and thanks for reading. Please keep them coming in, sorry if my updates are irregular sometimes – working and earning some money. Not edited but I will edit it when I have finished.

Owls/birds/animals mentioned or seen in this chapter.

Sherlock: (_Tyto Alba) _Barn owl

Mycroft: (_Tyto Alba_) Barn owl

Anthea: (_Asio clamator) _Stripped owl

John: (_Micrathene whitneyi) _Elf owl.

Mrs Hudson: (_Ramphotyphlops proximus) __Blind nest snake_

Harriett aka Harry: (_Micrathene whitneyi_) elf owl

Claire: _(Micrathene whitneyi)_ elf owl

Mike: _(Speotyto cunicularius)_ Burrowing owl.

Sarah: _(Speotyto cunicularius)_ Burrowing owl.

Jim: (_Tyto Alba)_ Barn owl.

Guardians of Ga'hoole (basically the peace keepers/police)

Sally: (_Otus trichpsis_) Screech owl. She became a guardian after how well she fought.

Anderson, Mike: (_Otus trichpsis_) Screech owl.

Lestrade, Greg: (_Strix nebulosa) _Great grey owl.

Pure Ones/followers (?)

Sebastian: (_Parabuteo unicinctus__) _Harris Hawk

OC owls/Birds 

Andiron: (_Bubo scandiacus_) Snowy owl

Tony: (_Podargus strigoides__) _Tawny Frogmouth

Warra: (_Dacelo leachii) _Blue-winged kookaburra

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><p>Chapter Three: Owl-napped<p>

* * *

><p>In their shared hollow the barn owl and the elf owl developed a routine. Sherlock never seemed to eat nor sleep and constantly perched on the skull with a thoughtful look on his face – sometimes he was on the wooden thing, a violin – John found out what this strange thing the 'Other's' made was called. Sherlock would perch on it and pluck the strings in no certain order, making sharp twang sounds.<p>

'You know you should go out hunting' John hummed, earlier John captured a small field mouse for dinner – his beak tipped with blood, a bit different to his diet in Kuneer though.

'I'm expecting word from the Great Ga'hoole tree, digesting food would slow down my schedule' Sherlock huffed, turning his beak at the mere mention of food.

'You make eating sound like a chore' John said pulling a piece of the grey fur of the mouse, holding the dead mouse under his talon.

'It is' Sherlock droned using the extra vertebrae in his neck to turn to the elf owl, fully sizing up the ex-warrior – one that only reached the start of his flight primaries.

'…' John chose not to say anything about that but was interrupted from his thoughts and meal by a low hoot from Sherlock,

'Your wing – does it bother you much?' Sherlock broke the comfortable silence with an uncomfortable question. Typical.

'Only sometimes when I'm flying' John hunched his wings a little, an owl version of a shrug.

'The wound, it was caused by a bat's wing blade wasn't it?' Sherlock said staring at John with those barn owl eyes, the faint colour of blue was hardly seen eyes fully blown into the black pebble like eyes.

John tried not to wilf at the intense look, John had best describe it as frightful at first but then it morphed into hypnotic.

'Not quite sure, blacked out before I could see' John said, suddenly not feeling very hungry and turning away from the smouldering glance.

'The shape and width of the scar suggests it was' Sherlock muttered as though that was all the explanation needed.

'How do you do that by the way?' John asked, twisting his head to the barn owl.

'Do what?' Sherlock blinked.

'Stare at someone and tell them their whole life or you knowing their greatest secrets' John explained.

'I'm merely very observant' Sherlock said, John would even say he was being modest – but this was Sherlock he was talking about.

'Huh, thought you knew some type of magic' John joked; only to pause at the strange look that Sherlock gave him.

'You believe in magic?' Sherlock asked, coolly.

'No, well – I lived in Kuneer, we grew up with the superstitious nonsense' John explained, 'I don't believe in things like that'

'Good, because there is no such thing' Sherlock hissed dismissively, but the strange look in his glinting eyes remained.

'Bet you just get a kick out of telling owlets that' John chirped, as though he didn't notice the shadow cross his hollow mate's facial disk.

'It's all in the mind, you know' Sherlock said quite out of the blue.

'What's in the mind?' John asked dumbfounded.

'The pain you feel, it was a clean wound – no severe nerve damage and your wing is still in good shape' Sherlock muttered his observation hopping off the violin with an unneeded flap of his wings, John had to clench his talons into the feathered ground of the hallow so he didn't topple over.

'Oh?' John stretched his wing in response, the knotted, featherless skin was almost silvery in appearance – it ached as he did. 'I need to take it easy that's all…get away from the all the battles'

'You're wrong' Sherlock said sharply.

'Huh' John said dumbly.

'You miss the battle and gore, if you wanted to relax and keep calm why you would still have your battle claws?' Sherlock tilted his head to the elf owl; in the clutch of his talons was a pair of very old looking battle claws. John was annoyed as it seemed the barn owl had no qualms about looking though his things when bored. John picked them up quite thoughtlessly when he made a hasty exist out of Harry's hollow – mind you, probably the best thing to do then rather leaving it with the drunken elf owl.

'They're completely useless, perhaps I wanted to take it to a black smith and have it made into something else' John huffed.

'Or made into a new pair…?' Sherlock asked, dark barn owl eyes glinting at the elf owl.

'The owl kingdoms were in stability for last couple of years – why would I need a new pair of battle claws?' John huffed; he didn't really think about that till now – John tried to calm his excited gizzard at the mere thought.

'Why indeed' Sherlock questioned plucking a string on the violin with a curled talon

'I'm a healer now anyway' John said finality, to himself and Sherlock whom continued to become closer, holding himself in perfect balance and elegance.

'But you're not a gizzard resister are you?' Sherlock drawled, 'So you can take up battle claws again'

Sherlock came closer to him, entering John's personal space – another thing that John noticed that Sherlock didn't respect.

'I was just going to melt them down Sherlock! There is no other reason why I have them still' John all but shouted, wings flaring out a bit in agitation.

'Whatever you say John' Sherlock hummed, in his usual patronising voice of his, but finally turning away from the furious elf owl only to freeze and turning to the entrance to their shared hollow, the distant flap of wings were heard coming towards them.

John almost reverted into defensive stance but visibly relaxed, it was owl's wings – not nosy which would be a dead give-away to 'Pure ones' preferring speed rather than silence the silent flight was also proof it was no bats that were flapping towards them with their featherless membranes. Sherlock just stared at him with that knowing look of his.

'Oh shut it' John snapped

'I didn't say anything, John' Sherlock drawled out the elf owl's name, enough to make John's gizzard quiver.

'You were thinking it!' John yelled.

'Sherlock, there's a very agitated – judging by the sound of wing beats – a great grey coming in for a landing…do you want me to make cups of milk berry tea?' Mrs Hudson poked her head out of the small hole in the hollow; it seemed to act like the way she travelled between their hollow and her own small hollow further down in the big tree. Though she was blind, blind snakes were known to be very sensitive to everything around them.

'No need Mrs Hudson, I am not staying long and neither is Lestraude' Sherlock said, not coldly though – John could tell that the young barn owl was quite fond of the blind nest snake and John was slowly beginning to become fond of the snake too.

'Oh! One of the guardians – he's such a lovely Great Grey with that large facial disk of his' Mrs Hudson sighed and let out a hissing laugh.

'If only you were an owl Mrs Hudson' Sherlock drawled amused. Mrs Hudson's mother of pearl scales gleamed and to John she seemed to become a slight pink colour.

'Oh dear, your making this old snake blush – it is very unbecoming for a lady such as myself' Mrs Hudson tutted, escaping into the small hole calling back, 'Just call me if you need anything dears, I'm going to start my cleaning' She slithered away just as quickly as she came.

'Who's Lestraude?' John asked the burning question.

'Didn't know you could be so slow. He is a Great Grey, scientifically known as a _Strix nebulosa_…' Sherlock began to state, his second eyelids blinked over his eyes lazily.

'I know that much!' John said crossly curiously poking his head out to look at the owl that got even larger as it got closer; as a great grey it was impressively strong and John could see the power in those feathered wings.

'Oh, well he is a guardian of Ga'hoole and head ryb for the search and rescue chraw – he and a band of inferior minded others have joined forces to investigate the disappearances and murders of owls…they cannot solve things on the best of days so they call me'

'Your so up yourself you know that' John huffed, 'and since he's a great grey I think he could hear every word you said'

'Indeed!' the great grey hooted, landing on the branch outside. He was larger than Sherlock, his plumage grey and white and his legs were heavily feathered – Sherlock's heart shaped facial disk was nothing compared to this owls, his facial desk was flat like most owls but it was light grey and huge all the better to hear things with. One his head was splotches of white feathers, a sign of age on most owls and the yellow eyes he had gleamed as he stared at Sherlock with wariness and a frown. Much was the look of someone so used to Sherlock yet still the barn owl could faze him every day.

'Ah, Lestraude so good for you to come – it's quite sad that it is only three nights in this case and you need me' Sherlock churred, 'Really, they must let anyone become guardians now a days'

'Oh frink off Sherlock, if your going to act like this I might as well go' Lestraude all but growled, turning away and about to fly off.

'We both know you wouldn't do that you need me too much' Sherlock said with finality, watching as Lestraude relaxed his wings and hold them tight to his body though it did nothing to lessen his bulk – all feathers mind you, great greys usually hang around the freezing north but as a desert owl from Kuneer John looked at all the feathers uncomfortably. A great grey is not suited to the desert John deduced.

Lestraude twisted his head to stare at the barn owl, his greyish white face was, John supposed in the words of Mrs Hudson, lovely but for some reason it was not as striking as Sherlock's dark, feathered heart shaped mask.

'So what's this case about?' Sherlock asked in a bored voice.

'Missing owlets' Lestraude said seriously, and John's gizzard lurched – again? Owlet snatching was thought to have ceased but if it started up again…

'Boooorrrring! Surely you can do better than that Lestraude' Sherlock drawled beginning to walk away, John saw the great grey puff up in his fury.

'Sherlock, they are owlets for Glaux sake!' John said to his hollow mate with a hiss and Lestraude finally noticed the elf owl in the hollow with them.

'Who's this?' Lestraude said surprised, not meaning to sound rude. John was about to answer only to have Sherlock speak in his usual cutting way.

'John. My new hollow mate' Sherlock answered for the elf owl, with a shadow of something that came upon his facial disk.

John would later know it was a flicker of possession that came upon Sherlock then, but right now he just assumed it was another of the barn owls oddities.

'I'm a healer' John added sparing an angry glare at Sherlock who seemed to ignore him.

'Lestraude, you know I only take interesting cases' Sherlock began about to turn away then only to have Lestraude in his majestic fury hop on the branch till he was nearly in the hollow.

'Want an interesting one? Fine! There was an owl found, thought to have committed suicide but there is no proof that she was ever inclined to depressing thoughts or suicidal tendencies' Lestraude snarled with yellow eyes blazing.

'Go on' Sherlock hummed but not turning around.

'We are beginning to think it is murder…there was another body found' Lestraude finished hopping on his feet, eager to talk more about this at the Great Ga'hoole tree rather than anywhere else.

'Serial suicides…' Sherlock puffed up excitedly, his eyes glinting as though he caught a plump vole or a rabbit.

'We don't want to jump to conclusions…' Lestraude began, weakly though because it seemed the barn owl did not hear him, only to be lost in his deductions and thoughts. John still had no idea how Sherlock knew all these terms, perhaps he read them from a book the others wrote – the barn owl seemed to have a great interest in the extinct creatures for whatever reason.

Sherlock then hopped out of the hollow next to the great grey who was muttering darkly about many things mainly about annoying barn owls.

'You're going now dearies?' Mrs Hudson questioned remerging from her hidey hole.

'Yes Mrs Hudson, the game is on!' Sherlock said excited, the glow of the moon behind him made John think of the old guardians of legends, and the fact how this owl looked so mysterious and frinking cool all the time was beyond John.

A great grey was as fast as any owl, though they had greater strength from their greater bulk. Lestraude outstretched his wings as he leaped off flying, with powerful wing beats he began to fly though the clearing matching the winding stream below and the low impatient call of his that echoed though the woods. Sherlock was about to launch off too, barn owls known to be exceptional silent fliers and fast when on the hunt, John didn't doubt that Sherlock could catch up with the Great Grey easily enough. With flared out wings, brown and chestnut coloured feathers cast shadows in the hollow from the moon light, Sherlock twisted his head towards John and spoke to the elf owl,

'Went into battle?' Sherlock hummed

'Yes' John answered.

'Met a lot of bad owls?' Sherlock questioned again.

'Yes' John said gizzard shivering, some of them not owls…

'Saw a lot of gory and bloody things?' Sherlock asked, flicking his eyes to the knotted, featherless flesh on John's wing.

'Yes' John answered, pressing his short wings closer to his body.

'Want to see some more?' Sherlock asked twisting his head to the normal position, tilting his beak to the moon.

'Glaux yes' John gasped, and hopped excitedly to Sherlock perching on the branch out stretching his own wings – Sherlock spared a look of amusement to John, John could barely feel his impaired wing as he flared them out ready to cup the air. Sherlock launched into the night with a sharp shree, or scream that Barn owls are known for; John readily followed him, following the winding stream below which that John saw the gleaming sea of Hoole'mere ahead, and the thick fog concealing a tree that he only heard legends about.

'The great Ga'hoole Tree…' John said awed, needing to have two wing beats instead of Sherlock's one to keep up with the barn owl.

'It's not that great…' Sherlock drawled in his usual bored voice, clicking his beak as well.

'You're just upset that I'm awed by something other than you' John churred, doing spin in the air; a trick he was taught that would give you an extra boost of speed.

'And yet you have me, so why do you feel awe for something else' Sherlock only huffed, but tilting his head this way and that as though trying to pinpoint a noise.

'And you always need your daily ego-stroking don't you – what's that?' John said not noticing Sherlock's alert actions as he too was distracted by the chill of a drop of rain water run off his wings, the fog was becoming very storm like and they were in the middle of it.

'A storm is a regular occurrence over vast amounts of water, hoolemere is notorious for them' Sherlock said matter-a-fact like. It was a tone that John was soon learning to despise.

'Well, this is a bit not good Sherlock' John sighed, he tried to avoid storms and now he was stuck in one.

'A bit not good?' Sherlock questioned with a tilt of his head, before John answer a boom of thunder did instead.

* * *

><p>'A bit not good!' John yelled over the roar of the wind, flapping his wings against it furiously rather then being thrown back into the crashing waves below – the elf owl felt a sense of grim satisfaction to see the bigger owl struggling (not as much though, just extra flaps here and there).<p>

John almost lost sight of Sherlock a couple of times, and it was becoming harder to fly as though a chill was crawling up his wings too – John looked at his wings and saw that the rain had frozen on his wings.

Not good, not good at all.

'Sherlock!' John tried to be heard over the wind, but the barn owl was gone – and now John felt so stupid following an owl he really knew nothing about and this owl is possibly the cause of his soon to be second near death experience; it was easier to blame someone else rather than his own thrill seeking tendencies.

When ice froze on ones feathers it is a very dangerous situation, the usual thing to do is plummet to your death and the other option is for you to be eaten by animals that prey on owls if you survive the plummet. John sighed as another gust of wind pushed him back with ease. The sea was coming closer as he fell and he sincerely hoped that Sherlock at least remembered he had a hollow-mate for a short time and wondered in that big brain of his where did he go.

John was calm and collected as he neared the crashing waves only to have a tight talon encircle his own and whisk him away. Though John was dangling upside down he didn't feel the embarrassment only relief at being alive.

'Oh thank Glaux Sherlock…' John sighed.

'I'm not Sherlock' a female voice churred, and it made John freeze as he was stared at with a lovely stripped owls face – it wasn't Sherlock at all.

'Ah…then what should I call you?' John asked casually as though this was a normal occurrence for him. But he did get annoyed when the larger owls simply grabbed him and carry him away sometimes, the one time Sherlock tried to do that the barn owl ended up on the ground of their hollow proving once and for all that size didn't matter.

'…Today my name is Anthea' The stripped owl responded, her facial disk was a slight chestnut colour that complemented her eyes, surrounded by a rim of dark feathers and all on her body was ginger, brown and white stripes of feathers though the looked more like splotches of colour rather than stripes. And the most interesting feature would be her small ear tufts on the top of her head ginger feathers tipped with black.

'What's your name tomorrow then?' John said smartly, struggling only to have his other leg was grabbed.

'I only think of them on the day' Anthea hummed, gliding though the storm as though it was nothing.

'Oh…where are you taking me?' John said uneasily.

'The Great Ga'hoole tree, someone is expecting you'

'Sherlock?'John said hopefully.

Anthea the spotted owl only churred, and didn't answer which didn't calm the unease building in John's gizzard – taken far away from where he fell, the fog rolled in again so he didn't see the familiar form of Sherlock driving low to the ocean much to close for his own safety, looking everywhere as though the barn owl had lost something of dire importance.

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><p>The storm cleared and Anthea flew around the bustling Great Ga'hoole tree, John thought she was going to land – all around them was different owls; grass owls, tawny owls, screech owls and a very boisterous owl, at least John thought is was an owl, with an odd accent that accidently knocked into John.<p>

'Sorry 'bout that mate!' He clicked, small and with a wide beak he slowed to a pace to Anthea's own wing beats,

'Wotcha doing?' He questioned grey, black feathers ruffling in the breeze, his bright yellow eyes staring at the poor elf owl hanging upside down in amusement.

'None of your concern Tony' Anthea said with barely concealed contempt towards the smaller new comer.

'Your accent is… different, where are you from?' John asked bored with little or no conversation with the stripped owl, still upside down – content with the fact that so close to a peace keeping force that Anthea wouldn't try and kill him.

'From across the sea's mate!' He shouted loudly disrupting a few of the quiet fliers puffing up in pride.

'Don't encourage him' Anthea sighed in irritation, the elf owl's beak twisted in a smirk.

'Never seen your kind before' John said just to spite Anthea.

'Oi, really?' Tony said excited, 'I'm a Tawny Frogmouth, my real name is Antonio – but only my mum can call me that; if you call me that I may have to stuff you in the roots of the tree!' Tony broke out in boisterous laughing, Anthea sighed in despair.

'Tell ya the truth mate, I'm not an owl – just a nocturnal bird' Tony said in a whisper winking at the elf owl. 'Well I'm John, a elf owl' John answered.

'Well nice to meet cha John, and g'night to you too, Anthea – wait you should meet Warra, he is the greatest bird I ever meet!' Tony cooed.

'Warra?' John questioned, tilting his head.

'OI WARRA! Come here!' He shouted, with that strange call of his; the whistling of un-owl like wings came towards them. John came across second odd looking bird today, it resembled a king fisher but its wings were tipped with blue feathers.

'G'night' Warra called, two of them ignoring the sigh of annoyance from the stripped owl.

'He's a Kookaburra!' Tony laughed, and Warra joined in too – the sounding out the loudest and possibly the most obnoxious bird call known in the Great Ga'hoole Tree, Anthea banked sharply to the side to escape those birds muttering angrily to herself, breaking her silent façade eager to be rid of the flying pests.

'Oi John, don't stay with those yoicks owls for too long! Catch up with us in the dining hollow for a cup of bingle juice, yeh?' Warra laughed, flying away with Tony both seeming to create a competition on who could laugh the loudest, some of the female owls rushing away at the rude seagull jokes they were shouting, some of the male owls joining in the merriment.

Anthea neared the roots of the tree, and dropped the elf owl on the ground roughly. John had his wings on the ground and legs sticking out making him feel a little silly, Anthea landed, wings outstretched as she then folded them away; twisting her head to the struggling elf owl – next to the roots was an umbrella stuck in the ground, old looking and the carved wooden handle was covered in deep scratches.

'Need a helping talon?' Anthea offered.

'No! I can get up myself!' John snapped, curling his wings towards his body and rolling till he had his talons on the ground rather than in the air – he shook himself to get rid of the dirt on his feathers.

'And why did you take me, anyway!' John snapped flaring out his wings, 'I do not appreciate being taken like that'

'I do apologise John, I didn't mean to cause you discomfort in your travels' A smooth drawl came above, as the sound of barn owl wings whizzed though the air as he landed on the handle of the old relic of the Others. He reminded John distantly of Sherlock, but he saw instead of having dark feathers on his facial disk the other's looked pure white, a ghost owl – a scroom faced bird.

His wings were mixtures of brown, chestnut and ginger with a black splotch of feathers on one side of his beak. Unlike Sherlock this barn owl's feathers were in perfect order and gave John the chills when he looked at him with that reading look.

'Who the frink are you?' John bit out, flaring out his wings as a instinctual thing.

'Not important' the owl grinned.

'You take me away, unwillingly…!' John stuttered outraged, only for the other to flare out his wings sharply startling John.

'Saved you from being shark food, did Sherlock tell you that Hoolemeere is writhing with them?' The owl drawled lowly, as though speaking to a owlet.

'What do you know about Sherlock' John huffed. Who was this owl? Who did he think he was?

'Once I knew him quite well…but now he considers me his enemy' the owl sighed, turning his back on John.

'Enemy?' John scoffed.

'Possibly his archenemy he would say' this ghost faced owl churred twisting his head towards John and tilting it, and John didn't like how It made his feathers stand on end. What kind of owls had arch enemies now? Obviously, Sherlock did.

'I am very interested in Sherlock however' the ghost owl hummed, suddenly very interested in his white feathered breast.

'Why?' John questioned warily, defence stance not lessening. 'I worry so much for him, perhaps you could help me in my mission' the ghost owl blinked lazily at him, 'If you could tell me…'

'What? Spy on Sherlock!' John said disgusted, 'No, I would never do such a thing!'

'Hm, so loyal so quickly; such a solider' the ghost owl sighed, 'But every owl has a price ...'

'Never! You must be yoicks to think I'll betray Sherlock!' John snarled, and in his rage he lifted off and flew off away from the ghost faced owl and the stripped owl.

'Sir, do you want me to go after him?' Anthea questioned the barn owl as they watched the elf owl ascend to get away from them.

'No, Anthea…John and I will meet very again shortly' the ghost owl sighed, 'How is my idiotic brother?'

'Lestraude dragged him in, a little battered and ruffled but his usual self' Anthea smiled.

'All because of that elf owl…' The ghost owl shook his feathered head.

'Mycroft may I be bold to ask you something?' Anthea addressed the barn owl, now revealed as Mycroft.

'Go ahead Anthea' Mycroft hummed.

'Sherlock's theory on the 'Others'…do you believe it to be true?' Anthea asked, curious and concerned.

'Not sure, too soon to say; but I know one thing for sure now' Mycroft began

'Yes?' Anthea chirped.

'This John will either be the making of my brother or the destruction of my brother' Mycroft said darkly.

But only time can tell, only Glaux can tell.

* * *

><p>TBC?<p>

* * *

><p>First of all; please review if you fav or alert. Or if you just find the story interesting. Scary: Hello, thanks for reading every review I get makes me feel like I could write forever lol Oh, I entered a twist? What's Sherlock's theory about the 'others'? Curious. John is not only an elf owl; he is a bamf elf owl. Also sorry about the Australian birds that appeared in this chapter. Also next chapter will be the murder! Hazzah! This will be based on the study of pink and we'll see how we go on from there.<p> 


	4. The study of pink feathers part 1

Scary: thanks for the reviews and alerts keep them coming will keep me updating. I've x-posted this story to my DA account, in which some fan art of owl-lock will pop up there too. Surprised by all the positive feedback I've been getting for this story. Sorry its taken so long… for this update :/ In how I am making this 'Study in pink', I am at the moment basing it off John's blog and my memory but then I will watch the episode again when I have time to put any more touches to it.

Not beta read, would like a beta for this story if anyone is interested.

Owls/birds/animals mentioned or seen in this chapter.

Sherlock: (_Tyto Alba) _Barn owl

Mycroft: (_Tyto Alba_) Barn owl

Anthea: (_Asio clamator) _Stripped owl

John: (_Micrathene whitneyi) _Elf owl.

Mrs Hudson: (_Ramphotyphlops proximus) __Blind nest snake_

Harriett aka Harry: (_Micrathene whitneyi_) elf owl

Claire: _(Micrathene whitneyi)_ elf owl

Mike: _(Speotyto cunicularius)_ Burrowing owl.

Sarah: _(Speotyto cunicularius)_ Burrowing owl.

Jim: (_Tyto Alba)_ Barn owl.

Guardians of Ga'hoole (basically the peace keepers/police)

Sally: (_Otus trichpsis_) Screech owl. She became a guardian after how well she fought.

Anderson, Mike: (_Otus trichpsis_) Screech owl.

Lestrade, Greg: (_Strix nebulosa) _Great grey owl.

Pure Ones/followers (?)

Sebastian: (_Parabuteo unicinctus__) _Harris Hawk

Cabbie: (seriously what is that guys name?) (_Bubo virginianus) _Great Horned Owl

OC owls/Birds 

Andiron: (_Bubo scandiacus_) Snowy owl

Tony: (_Podargus strigoides__) _Tawny Frogmouth

Warra: (_Dacelo leachii) _Blue-winged kookaburra

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><p>Chapter four: The study of pink feathers part 1<p>

John had at once escaped the talons of the weird scroom faced barn owl and the formidable, though lovely looking stripped owl called Anthea. So now John found himself in the hub of Ga'hoole tree, the first time that the small elf owl from Kuneer had ever been here so he might've stared slack beaked at the owls rushing around doing their chraws.

John snapped out of his daze and twitched his head left and right, where was Sherlock? John almost expected the dark feathered barn owl to come down, land in front of him and snark, 'Really John, you're late' so instead of not-hearing the silent glide of barn owl wings (though he was still wary if the ones that took him would appear) John looked up and saw the familiar tawny frogmouth and blue-winged kookaburra glide down.

'Oi, there be Johnny-boy!' Tony, the wide mouthed (not an owl John's mind supplied helpfully) Tawny Frogmouth swooped down to meet him on the small platform carved from a thick branch; landing with a flutter. Warra joined them, and upon closer inspection John realised that the Kookaburra had a long feather, beaded with mismatched beads and pieces of shells. It looked to be a crows feather too.

Interesting looking king-fisher, indeed.

'Wow, you escaped them! You know what that means?' Tony hopped up to John, his wide eyes seemed to get wider with the stout birds excitement.

'I don't know.' John stuttered a little, hopping back to extend his personal space.

'By Glaux, you've become an honourable member of our chraw.' Tony cuffed John with his wing, Tony, though not as large as most birds and owls – his enthusiasm was enough to knock him over.

'Chraw?' John questioned politely regaining his balance on his talons. Yes, he knew what chraws were – they were jobs given to owls in the Great Ga'hoole; whose abilities and natural instincts were used in the betterment of owl and bird kind. This however, was the first time John had heard of this term being used by non-owls though.

'Chraw. Every bird needs a chraw.' Warra called simply.

'Our chraw; which we call unit Porpoise.' Tony explained with a smile.

'Porpoise…?' John questioned the two birds with an incredulous look.

'It gives us purpose.*' Warra's wings flinched up, a very bird like shrug.

'Ya see mate; we're not owls – some owls don't like us because of that reason, but we earn our keep.' Tony explained.

'We do.' Warra muttered, nodding.

'How is escaping the scroom faced barn owl make me part of your "chraw"?' John asked, as well as being flattered he was a little bit confused.

'Listen mate, that owl…aren't natural' Tony whispered lowly, Warra nodded along – his sharp beak jerked sharply.

'Ya see we think he is up to no good, with the pure ones and all…' Tony whispered like it was one big conspiracy, leaning forward into John's face – making John lean backwards.

'Are you suggesting that he and that stripped owl could be…turn-feathers…?' John whispered back.

'Something about them - just makes me feel off' Warra shook, his feathers fluffing up as he did.

'But the ghost owl, I think he likes you - if he doesn't well, he has ways of making you disappear.' Tony explained and then asking his friend, 'Remember Victor?'

'Aye, not one of the greatest owls I've known and I don't miss his stiff beak at all…' Warra grumbled a few more words under his breath that neither Tony nor John caught.

'But one day he was here, and the next he was gone; vanished.'

'You think they had something to do with it?'

'Think? I know! Warra saw them take him away'

Warra nodded.

'Ya see mate, we think that they're planning to over throw the King and Queen of Ga'hoole' Tony clicked his beak, 'and since you stood up to the yoicks owls perhaps you could keep an eye on them'

'Really boys, must you talk of spying?' A familiar voice boomed from behind and john twisted his head to see who it was; it was the great grey from earlier. The guardian Lestrade. His massive bulk compared to John, Warra and Tony shadowed them.

'Oi, maybe it is only non-owls that can see what's happening – the pure ones have infiltrated the great tree, you have to act now before its too late' Warra hopped to Lestrade, whom did that odd thing that some owls did when confused – he shifted his head in an almost circle.

'Any threat to the Great Ga'hoole tree has been acted against' His yellow eyes glared down from his facial disk, beak tightly shut. John took in the great greys ruffled feathers, as though he flew though a great storm – water dripping from his great wings.

'What? With assistance from _him?_ He is a pure one; his own bloody father was one. Sally and Mike think so too' Tony grumbled agitated.

'Hush!' Lestrade snarled at them flaring out his wings casting a large shadow, John was confused but didn't miss Lestrade's yellow eyes flick towards him, 'If you two don't have anything better to do, be off with you' Lestrade huffed, flaring his wings and letting out a sharp hiss at them when they didn't move.

'Alright, alright don't get your feathers in a knot' Warra drawled, beginning to slowly flap to ascend.

'See ya for a cup of bingle juice John!' that was the last thing Warra called before they disappeared into the traffic flying above them.

Lestrade sighed and a tired smile tugged at his beak,

'Well john, glad to see you're still in one shape – Sherlock was wondering where you went'

'Really now?' John scoffed, like Sherlock was ever concerned about him; John let that thought linger and swim in his mind feeling something in his gizzard become heavy.

'By Glaux, very impressive to make it to the tree though a storm – by yourself and with your bad w…' Lestrade's voice to a stop and coughed awkwardly at the glare the elf owl shot him.

'What? My _bad_ wing – is that what you were going to say, Lestrade?' John asked, voice raising an octave or two, making a few owls look at them.

'Now John, I meant no offense…' Lestrade started, the great grey was startled enough to wilf a little.

'Well your right, I didn't make it to this Glaux forsaken tree by myself – I had help, or should I say 'rescued against my will' by some stripped owl and interrogated by some scroom faced owl!' John all but snarled out.

'Scroom faced…owl?' Lestrade blinked and then grim realisation filled those yellow orbs, 'Ah, you've met _him_'

'Who?' John asked.

'I thought you would be able to tell? Well, he is…' Lestrade began.

'Lestrade, the _freak_ is looking at the body' an agitated female voice called from above, and getting closer; interrupting whatever the great grey was about to say.

'Sally, I'll be there in a moment' Lestrade huffed not looking at the female screech owl that landed near them, she looked as though something or someone had ruffled her feathers big time.

'Sally?' John said startled, turning his head to the newcomer.

'John?' Sally, the screech owl said with wide eyes.

'You two know each other?' Lestrade looked between them, with a wide sweeping look.

'We were in battle together; just a rag and tag team against the pure ones' the screech owl clicked her beak. Her brown and white looking plumage was still the same and her ear tufts stuck out as proudly as the day John had first met her. John thought it funny how she still remembered his name; or even bothered to.

'Well, this is a nice surprise – but I don't want to leave the body any longer with the freak and Mike' Sally drawled; John doubted that she truly thought it was an it was a nice surprise.

'I'll be up in a second' Lestrade reassured her, though Sally hopped on a feathered talon in impatience.

'So I best be off then John, catch you later for a cup of bingle juice' Lestrade finished looking down onto the elf owl good naturedly. The great grey and the screech owl lifted up into the canopy of the tree, large and powerful (un-maimed wings, John scowled in his head) pushing them up into the lit up tree.

John looked at his wing, the silverly white knotted scar. How ugly it was.

'John?' A familiar voice called to him, making John twist his head to the voice, his body soon following after. It was the lovely looking Burrowing owl, the one called Sarah.

Her bright eyes and friendly features melted into concern when she saw him.

'John, are you all right?' Sarah asked, walking towards him avoiding some of the owlets running around and playing with a ball of mouse fur. A toy that the older owls made for the orphan owlets, John had done something similar to a owlet that broke his wing – he found the skin of a rattlesnake and filled it with sand, used a cactus thorn and some cactus fibre to sew it together.

'…' John stared at her, startled but shaken from his dark thoughts, 'Sarah? No…nothing is wrong' John said,even though everything is wrong.

'Well…' Sarah began, 'If you need a friend in this tree, you can find me in my burrow by the roots of the tree or the healing hollow – you're a healer too aren't you?'

'Yes'

'Well, if you want to pop in sometime I will give you something to put your mind on' Sarah churred, 'Glaux knows I need a extra pair of talons to keep the injured out of trouble' and with that Sarah gestured her wing to an owlet that somehow got drenched with milk berry juice stumbling around, dazed. Sarah rolled her eyes.

Before John could say how much he would love to, a barn owls shadow came overhead with the bellow of Lestrade (the great grey sounding very unhappy) -

'SHERLOCK!' Lestrade all but screeched, but it was too late Sherlock had landed between John and Sarah. With a flourish of dark coloured wings and darkly feathered facial disk, Sarah stumbled backwards in shock but other than that Sherlock didn't pay any attention to her – John didn't doubt that the owl knew she was behind him.

'Oh, John so good to see you're alive' Sherlock drawled, 'I need someone to have a look at the body' the barn owl was ever straight to the point.

That comment was enough to make John snap.

'You need me now? After you left me in a storm' John muttered under his breath.

'Really John? I trusted you in your flying ability – see? You are well and wings still attached' Sherlock drawled, lifting a talon gesturing to the side of his feathered head.

'No point in muttering John' Sherlock clicked his beak at the smaller owl.

Damn Sherlock and his barn owl hearing!

Sherlock soon was in flight again, how he could hold such a cold look on his feathered facial desk – flying back where he emerged from.

'You know Sherlock?' Sarah churred warily, becoming steadier on her talons.

'I share a hollow with him' John muttered in open disdain.

'…Just be careful with him and his family'. Sarah warned; wide eyes full of concern.

'Family?' John questioned, it was a topic never brought up – because John simply never thought to ask when they were having a cup of milk-berry tea.

'Aye, he has a brother that is part of the parliament' Sarah explained, suddenly finding her talons very interesting to look at.

'He never told me he had a brother…how about his mother and father?' John muttered with a sigh escaping his beak.

'As far as I know, Sherlock's mother lives with the Sisters of Glaux and rarely goes out because she has an illness of the gizzard.'

'And his father?' John questioned. The barn owl would be frightening to meet if he was like Sherlock or Glaux forbid, to be worse than the consulting detective.

Sarah looked very uncomfortable at that question but she answered, though this answer only raised more questions in John's mind.

'He was never at the Great Ga'hoole tree, but I've heard stories of him-he was a guardian once, once a politician though he is only recalled in whispers in the branches as a turn-feather'

Sherlock's father…was a turn feather?

'I don't know the whole story, probably the only owls that do are Mycroft, Sherlock and the King' Sarah said, the concern never leaving her voice, 'John I don't want you to get hurt.' Sarah's lovely wide eyes pleaded with the elf owl.

'Don't worry…I've come to far too be hurt' John said, head turning to the commotion further up – sounded a lot like the start of a fight; the shrill hiss from absolutely finked off owl and a angry screech owl calling out his own battle cry.

'Sarah, I think I should go up there before I have to mend broken wings.' John churred, with one flap then a second one the elf owl was in the air, his bad wing barely twinged as he did – ascending to the platform which a group of owls paced or perched.

* * *

><p>Lestrade was right in the thick of it, feathers trembling in restrained rage as a male screech owl and Sherlock circled him – trying to get past the great grey to possibly peck out the others eyes.<p>

In the far corner was what John at first was a gadfeather…a dead gadfeather though, with the brightly coloured paint in her feathers. Pink…it was an unusual colour for a travelling performer to use but John had little time to fully note the poor owl's fatal wounds as he looked at Sherlock hissing at a screech owl, one that John hasn't met before.

Slightly smaller than Sally, he was darkly coloured – of greys and blacks, all neat and in place; on his facial desk seemed a constant look of discontent and though he was posed confidently against Sherlock, you would not have to be a detective to see the underlining fear in his yellow eyes.

'Listen here freak' the male screech owl hissed, 'I will not be pushed around on my own crime scene!' He flared out his wings, but Sherlock stared the screech down like he was nothing more than a vole to be pounced on.

'You've contaminated this crime scene with your stupidity Anderson; you should just quit now and give your time to the Glauxian Brothers, I think their pledges of silence would do you some good' Sherlock drawled, a cruel tilt to his beak.

Anderson seemed to expand in rage, Sally scowled at Sherlock.

'Leave him be Freak'

Lestrade's warning look went unheeded.

'Tell me Sally, how it feel to be always second to Anderson's mate'

'FRINK OFF FREAK!' Sally screamed, and now it was two screeches against one barn owl. Lestrade seemed too used to this chaos, sighing and regretting his exceptional hearing for once as three owls continued to yell; high pitched, angry noises that their species are so famous of.

John then was reminded of something:

Barn owls are terrifying when angry, there's a reason why they were called scroom faced birds – they can hear anything, they're extraordinary hunters and most of all, silent killers, it helps that they can hiss like a cat or snake too. It was sometimes understandable to believe that the Tyto could be the superior owl; the teachings of the Pure Ones did have reason to brag – though they had butchered the very foundation of being an owl and the Glaux given rules for goodness.

John didn't feel comfortable at all when he stared at Sherlock – this was his roommate and his…friend?

Now he was only reminded of that Pure One siege and how Sherlock would've been a formidable Pure One, but in that would've been impossible – Sherlock would've been only fledging when he was at siege…Sherlock with his fluffy down, possibly one of the owlets that tried to fly before it was time.

Sherlock as a fluffy owlet* made John feel giddy in the gizzard but surely the barn owl would deduce where John's mind is wandering but thankfully Sherlock was concentrating more on insulting rather than where John's mind was at the moment.

'Please can we cease this petty squawking, and have a look at the body…John? What are doing here?' Lestrade asked, blinking at the elf owl, only just noticing the healer.

'Guardian's only' Anderson snarled.

'He is my colleague' Sherlock snapped at Anderson, 'He stays'

'Oh, so that's why you went back into that storm' Lestrade questioned the barn owl, the owls dark eyes narrowing at the amused tone, 'Because you were colleagues'

Wait, Sherlock went back for him? John stared at the barn owl surprised.

'Let's look at this victim, shall we?' Sherlock drawled, ignoring the smug look on Lestrade's facial disk and the last question.

'Come along John' Sherlock said, striding towards the painted corpse – sharp talons treading carefully as if he could upset any evidence he missed, John hopped along behind the barn owl, ignoring the agitated looks the screeches gave him.

John took s deep breath when he saw the body.

'Well, John – what do you make of this?' Sherlock drawled, and John became very aware of how close the barn owl was to him – the feel of wing

against wing, an uneasy feeling it was.

* * *

><p>TBC? when I'm not busy<p>

* * *

><p>MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Not intentional ending it there. Also this is a Johnlock fic, but as they're owls in this story and that's a little weird even for me – it's just them being cute together…yes, me trying to write cute. BTW when I finally get these chapters done, some cases will get more limelight then others because I don't want to just rewrite the series as the characters as owls, there will be added complication such as: the pure ones, Hagfiends and magical flecks…READ THE OWL'S OF GA'HOOLE! : If you haven't already, though if you watch the movie you will get most of the references but some are from the books.<p>

*you cannot start a journey without a porpoise - based from Alice's adventures in wonderland

*SHERLOCK AS AN FLUFFY OWLET XD gonna totally draw him. A barn owl reaches maturity a year.


	5. The study of pink feathers part 2

Scary: thanks for the support and the comments, I'm sorry if it takes a bit long with the updates but I am interested in my Sherlock stories at the moment. If you are enjoying this AU I am working on another one, a kidlock AU with john as a borrower, or a little person XD a very cute story, with the Sherlock cast as very cute characters. Woot! Now onto the case finally. Also I found a site that may be helpful with the words :D

guardiansofgahoole dot wikia dot com/wiki/Owl_Glossary

Owls/birds/animals mentioned or seen in this chapter.

Sherlock: (_Tyto Alba) _Barn owl

Mycroft: (_Tyto Alba_) Barn owl

Anthea: (_Asio clamator) _Stripped owl

John: (_Micrathene whitneyi) _Elf owl.

Mrs Hudson: (_Ramphotyphlops proximus) __Blind nest snake_

Harriett aka Harry: (_Micrathene whitneyi_) elf owl

Claire: _(Micrathene whitneyi)_ elf owl

Mike: _(Speotyto cunicularius)_ Burrowing owl.

Sarah: _(Speotyto cunicularius)_ Burrowing owl.

Jim: (_Tyto Alba)_ Barn owl.

Guardians of Ga'hoole (basically the peace keepers/police)

Sally: (_Otus trichpsis_) Screech owl. She became a guardian after how well she fought.

Anderson, Mike: (_Otus trichpsis_) Screech owl.

Lestrade, Greg: (_Strix nebulosa) _Great grey owl.

Dimmock: (_Strix varia) _Barred owl.

Pure Ones/followers (?)

Sebastian: (_Parabuteo unicinctus__) _Harris HawkCabbie: (seriously what is that guy's name?) (_Bubo virginianus) _Great Horned Owl…possibly. I'm quite happy with this selection at the moment.

High Tyto: (_Tyto Alba_) Barn owl

OC owls/Birds 

King Hod: (_Bubo scandiacus) _Snowy owl.

Queen Freya: (_Bubo scandiacus) _Snowy owl.

Andiron: (_Bubo scandiacus_) Snowy owl.

Tony: (_Podargus strigoides__) _Tawny Frogmouth.

Warra: (_Dacelo leachii) _Blue-winged kookaburra.

* * *

><p>Chapter 5: the Study of pink feathers part 2<p>

_'Come along John' Sherlock said, striding towards the painted corpse – sharp talons treading carefully as if he could upset any evidence he missed, John hopped along behind the barn owl, ignoring the agitated looks the screeches gave him._

_John took a deep breath when he saw the body._

_'Well, John – what do you make of this?' Sherlock drawled, and John became very aware of how close the barn owl was to him – the feel of wing against wing, an uneasy feeling it was._

John stared at the body of the owl, unnaturally lying on its back on the ground of the large hollow, with wings spread out – unbroken. Beneath the pink ochre or dye what appeared to be a female spotted owl. Her lush brown and white spotted plumage looked well looked after, and a ring of white spots curled around her head like a crown. She looked to be once the life of the party – ruined by that powdery colour and her once lively eyes now dimmed and glassy.

John stared down at her in sadness, a prayer that his mother used to say when an egg or an owlet died, 'May you rest in Glaumora.' Glaumora was a word used for owl heaven; though John didn't exactly believe in it after all he's been though, old habits die hard. The hard look that Sherlock gave him told him the barn owl was becoming impatient for his answer – the barn owl seemed to feel nothing in his gizzard at all; if Sherlock had a gizzard at all.

'Surely, Anderson would have already came up with something' John had said, feeling the burn of the screech owls glare – feeling put on the spot; John felt like he was going to wilf. (Something that owls do to appear smaller, the feathers laying flat on their bodies whether in fright or unease) Sherlock scoffed at that suggestion,

'If I had wanted Anderson's dim and misinformed ideas of what had occurred here – I would've asked him. John, I want you to tell me what happened.' The barn owl said no words of encouragement. Sherlock was just stating a cold, hard fact.

Finally coming to the conclusion that Sherlock was not going to remove the spot light, John took a calming breath and then explained what he has observed:

'From the position of her body, the streak of paint on the ground – this is not where she died'

'Yes – other than stating the obvious, we found her in an abandoned tree in Tyto. I doubt a little elf owl from Kuneer would even know where that is.' Anderson drawled, John flinched a little at the jab but continued with a hard glint in his eyes,

'From the colour of her eyes, the time of death was about dwenking time …what's that?' John stared what remained to be a beetle or insect smeared on her feathers.

'Perhaps she was a messy eater' Sally said, inspecting the goo as well.

'Good Glaux, why must you surround me with idiots…'Sherlock groaned, 'It is clearly obvious that it is the remains of a click beetle'

'Why in the world would she eat that!?' John all but shouted. A click beetle, is not a appetizing thought at all…a beetle that emits an eerie glow and is wickedly toxic, and if the vivid colours aren't enough warning – the beetle when it lands on its back, makes a violent clicking noise.

'Well, it is a suicide John' Lestrade explained, 'Some owls do strange things'

'We don't know if it was a suicide…' John said quietly to himself. While there were no wounds to show that a creature (monster) had a talon in this death – John's gizzard was telling him this was more to this than suicide. An owl's gizzard is a wondrous thing; it is almost like a second stomach that compresses bones and fur from their prey together into the pellets which they yarp up. The gizzard is what sets owls apart from other birds and some owls have the ability to feel, well, sometimes known as the 'atmosphere' of the room. Generally when an owl says 'I have a gizzardy feeling' it is a lot like saying I have this weird feeling, or I have a hunch. Vultures, for the record, use the term 'I have a hunch' quite a fair amount.

'From what I can see, she has no wounds that would've caused her death.' John explained looking to the large barn owl next to him. But John didn't mention the weird feeling in his gizzard in fear of the logical barn-owl would laugh at him.

Sherlock remained pensive staring at the painted owl,

'Tell me did it rain when you flew her here?' Sherlock sighed, bored of it all.

'No, it was a bright day…' A barred owl responded just becoming known to the group.

'Hello Dimmock, good for you to join us with the inspection of the body you found' Lestrade bowed his large head in greeting soon followed by Sally and Anderson. Sherlock did not bow his head in greeting just choosing to continue to bore his eyes into the body, John did however greet the newcomer but the larger owl did not notice him.

Dimmock was the helper in Lestrade's chraw – and substitute ryb. A ryb is a title for an owl teacher, when Lestrade was in the Great Ga'hoole tree it would be normal for him to be addressed as Lestrade-ryb. When the great grey was away on a long mission then it would be Dimmock-ryb in his place. Both with search and rescue backgrounds, though Dimmock had a natural gift in weather interpretation as well.

As a barred owl, Dimmock was quite a large owl with a round head with no ear tufts, not as huge as Lestrade though – unlike most owls his huge eyes weren't yellow but brown, a tell tale sign that this owl as well as being active in night; he was active in dawn, dusk and day.

With a brown and white hood and a thick bar markings on his feather and breast, small beak giving him such a contrite look most of the time.

'Her breast feathers are still slightly damp – probably dried most of it in the sun but her back…'Sherlock used a talon to shift the body slightly to inspect, 'her back is wet and covered in dirt. She was in that hollow for a long time, and while she was not killed there –'

'Killed!?' Dimmock stuttered a little, looking between Sherlock and Lestrade. John felt a little sorry for the barred owl; obviously this was not what he assumed it would be. Probably thought it was suicide like everyone else.

Yes, killed. Use your brains for once!' Sherlock snapped at everyone in that barn owls scream, 'Just look at her! Well off, had a string of male companions and loved to travel everywhere, not one to stay in one place for too long – judging by the type of moss caught in her talons; the only type that can be found in the North Kingdoms and the pink powder which can only be made from pink salt there.' Sherlock continued to mutter about 'intellectually inferior owls'.

'Amazing…' John muttered, embarrassingly out loud – John snapped his beak shut and wanted to sink into the ground, Sherlock didn't make any comment on that but the barn owl almost seemed…puffed up. By John's praise it seemed.

Lestrade thought it would be wise to send Dimmock away when they received his full report (Sherlock making shocking comments all the way) - before the owlets tried to figure out where the search and rescue chraw leaders wondered off to; that and before the barred owl started a fight with the barn owl. With an irate huff did Dimmock left, just in the nick of time too – just before Sherlock blurted out top secret information like it was the norm.

'Well, well – it appears we have a dead slipgizzle on our talons here, very unlikely she would've killed herself then' Sherlock said bored after a moment, 'she was posted in the North Kingdom appearing as a flamboyant gadfeather.'

John blinked, so did Lestrade. A slipgizzle tended to be rouge blacksmiths – keeping an eye or two out for any suspicious activity, the pure ones wouldn't dare to attack an owl with the ability to create weapons from iron and ore. But one that was a Gadfeather…well, who would suspect a performer to be a spy?

This was bad – worse than bad; it was rac-drops.

'What about this then?' Sally gestured to the scratched beginnings of the name or word, '_Rache…'_ Sherlock took one look at it, 'It's unimportant'.

'I think that could be 'Other' language, for revenge?' Anderson muttered, Sherlock twisted his head to face Anderson. The look on the barn owls facial disk was probably close to an expression he would give a seagull.

'The spotted owl was in her prime, and had strings of male companions – she would've had an owlet or two' Sherlock explained slowly to Anderson.

'If it is the slipgizzle that has gone missing recently' Lestrade began grim – the death of a slipgizzle was not his division but he and the guardians had been told that one of them had completely vanished, 'she had an owlet…as far as I am aware the little one left the nest too soon.' It was unspoken what befallen the owlet, but with a sinking unease in the room – it was obvious the owlet was not found.

'Owlet, a little female spotted owl. Called Rachel.' Sherlock said, 'As I said, unimportant'

John looked to Sherlock; the cold and emotionless dark eyes of the barn owl chilled the elf owl as well as awed him.

'She enjoyed travelling – a gadfeather was the role she had to play.' Sherlock continued, 'So where is her bag?'

'Bag?'

'Yes her bag'

'Sherlock, you may need to elaborate more on that statement.' Lestrade asked, almost pleaded with the manic young barn-owl probably thinking, 'I'm too old to be worrying about this yoicks owl…' Sherlock, instead of answering like any normal owl his eyes went wide and with an excited shree did he yell,

'PINK!' with a flurry of wings did he rush out of the hollow in flight, leaving the group of owls blinking in his wake.

'WHAT IN GLAUX NAME IS WRONG WITH YOU?!' Lestrade screeched after the quickly retreating barn owl, leaning out of the hollow just as confused as everyone. Sherlock didn't answer…well, there was a drawn out wail of 'pink' but it was difficult to tell if it were just an echo on the cool breeze.

John let out a tired sigh and became very uncomfortable with the looks the others shot at him. The silence was overbearing and awkward – more so with the great grey looming behind him; Lestrade knew that this wasn't the first time Sherlock just left him behind like a yarped pellet and Lestrade was giving the elf owl a look of understanding. It happened to Lestrade many occasion before, Sherlock getting an idea and then flying off.

But the mocking burn of Sally's and Anderson's eyes, the male screech owls callous remark,

'Oh, seems like the freak has forgotten you.'

And it may not be bragged at the dining hollow, but, it took Lestrade and all his strength to keep John leaping at the screech owl with talons outstretched.

* * *

><p>When the whole mess of the body of the owl was cleared and the owls were able to fully pay their respects, John was now free to explore the great Ga'hoole tree, eager to take up the offers of newly found friends to go to the grog hollow and enjoy an acorn cup or two of milk berry wine, bingle juice and berry mead – a much stronger brew.<p>

Lestrade was cautious around John, so not to mention John's wing or such but the bad weather had started up again. John sat nursing his acorn with his talon, boring his eyes into the liquid gathering the courage to fly to their hollow and beat the barn owl senseless.

Lestrade was perched next to him, huge mass which shadowed other owls churring and telling wet pooper jokes – the boisterous Warra and Tony were flapping around and twirling in the air, the slurred words of an owl drinking song.

Though the exact words John couldn't make out from the various squawking and the slurring of the words.

That was until Sarah, the lovely burrowing owl had stridden in – unlike most owls she preferred to walk rather then flutter around like other owls. Unlike most female owls, she strode in with confidence into the grog tree, with a smile did John notice all the wet pooper jokes shut off as all the males stared at her in surprise and a little bit of shame.

John tried not to wilf as she perched next to john, tilting her head churring softly. Her churr was soft and lovely.

'This doesn't seem like the place you normally come to John?'

'It's not!' John squawked, he really didn't mean too – but it felt as though his gizzard was about to burst. Why did Sarah have to have such lovely eyes?

Sarah churred again and Lestrade stared at him from his large facial disk – the tufts of feathers framing his beak and eyes almost gave the impression of a raised eyebrow as he watched curiously.

'It's not' John huffed, embarrassed.

'I believe you John' Sarah cuffed John's wing, a small smile tugging at her beak. The two owls from Kuneer continued to speak of rattlesnakes and family – leaving the poor great grey out of the loop so he sat drinking his berry mead in silence as the two small owls chattered on.

John had found that Sarah hadn't always wanted to be a healer, that she was only a mere owlet when the owls of St Aggies came.

'Of course they were intercepted' Sarah explained at the horrified look on John's face, 'by the sisters of Glaux, believe it or not – it was a sister that snatched me away from the evil owls – she was an eagle owl. The largest owl I've ever seen but the kindest creature I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.' Sarah said fondly.

'I had heard rumours of that place. St Aggies for orphaned owls…' John hissed in disgust.

Orphaned owls, more like kidnapped owls! John had heard horror stories of such a place. The mountains were the stronghold; and had since been abandoned since the last siege.

'The sister of Glaux made all of them go yeep!' Sarah churred, Yeep is the owl word used to say when your wings lock up out of fear or shock.

'But, when they took me back to my nest – the other eggs, my brothers and sisters were gone. My parents no where to be seen and they didn't come, we waited though the day too. The eagle owl and I.' Sarah's eyes glowed with grim light, and John just wanted to preen her feathers, run his beak though her plumage in a comforting gesture.

'What happened then?'

'I was only an owlet; I was barely branching nor have I had my first scorpion ceremony…' Sarah sighed.

'I was then taken by the sisters of Glaux and bought here, to the Great Ga'hoole tree. The rest is history.' Sarah explained with dim eyes.

'Do you wonder if your parents are still out there, or your sisters or brothers?' John asked.

Sarah only smiled sadly,

'I do not like to hope on the unlikely.'

* * *

><p>The night progressed for longer, John had no where to go as it was nearing first light so Sarah kindly showed him the healing hollow and her small but cosy hollow. John and Sarah had retired for the night but Sherlock decided to come back , landing ungracefully for a barn owl and not that silently in his excitement– in his talons held a piece of cloth, a piece of pink cloth.<p>

Probably the same dye used on the owl, but Sherlock used it as a bag – something heavy weighed it down. The proud look on the barn owls facial disk was like an owl successfully catching a fast field mouse for the first time. John shushed him as soon as he came down shouting at the top of his lungs near the roots of the tree – saving Sarah's needed rest but with his sacrifice.

'She was smart. So very smart' Sherlock said. His happiness was border line manic. John just glared at him, walking out to meet the idiotic genius of a bird.

'I suppose she would be, not every owl can be a slipgizzle.'

'Thank Glaux for that! Imagine a world where an owl like Anderson could be a slipgizzle.'

'It would be a dark day in the owl kingdoms.'

'Indeed.' Sherlock let out a shrill shree, John shushed him again.

'What is that?' John asked, pointing a talon at that bundle. Sherlock tilted his head to the side and released it.

The item of interest rolled out with a metallic ring on the wooden roots.

'I found it.' Sherlock said in awe – it looked to be some sort of device, an amulet like the others wore in the paintings and old tapestries. It looked like it used to hold something as it was lined with hollows. John had no idea what it was but Sherlock seemed transfixed on it. Sherlock talon held onto the cloth that covered it.

The metallic ring seemed to still echo around them, where it began to hurt John's head.

'Sherlock…'John tried to shake the darkness that began to enter his vision, a barn owls hearing was better then most so it would be worse for him but the owl just stood and stared, wings limp against his sides.

'SHERLOCK!' John screamed. Sherlock snapped from his trance and dropped the cloth on top of the amulet again – the ringing stopped as suddenly as it started.

'Sherlock, are you okay?' John hopped closer, eyes wide and afraid for his friend.

'I'm sorry…I don't know what came over me.' Sherlock heaved a little, blinking to shake the ill feeling that filled John as well.

'Where did you get that...?'

'I was flying, searching for clues. I had no idea…well, I had an idea but it was bundled up – had no idea it would still affect us without its missing pieces.' Sherlock said thoughtfully and calmly, 'Residue from them still lingered…'

John didn't want the thing anywhere near them, no matter if it was missing pieces.

'Sherlock do you have rac-drops for brains! You bought Nachtmagen to the great Ga'hoole tree.' John hissed, feathers becoming ruffled and out of place. Nachtmagen is the owl word for dark magic – no one really believed in it anymore, it is more a word used to explain something malicious and unknown. Ever since the Great War the Great Ga'hoole tree reached most of the kingdoms bringing education and book reading – the word of science began to spread and the word of magic began to die out.

'Don't tell me john that you believe in Hagsfiend magic, my dear elf owl.' Sherlock churred – but the barn owl still had an lingering unease, shifting his gaze to the frightful object.

'I don't. But this isn't right…' John said, looking uneasily at the wrapped trinket.

'Science john, it is simply the science of higher magnet's that are at work here.'

'Magnet's, what are you on about!'

'Isn't it obvious? It was all because of flecks.' Sherlock let out an excited shree.

'Flecks…you truly are yoicks.' John said. Flecks were often found in rivers and the animals that the owls ate sometimes – the blacksmith had said they were flecks of metal, like iron and magnet. It was treated with suspicion as the older generation thought that Flecks had strange effects on owls.

'Maybe I am John, but these owls were targeted because of them. Serial suicides, more like murder.' Sherlock hissed.

'How do you figure?' John asked.

'It was 'Rache' that the victim scratched out. It was the first clue, the smart spotted owl knew she was going to be tracked down and killed for what she took – it had nothing to do with revenge but it was the place where she had hidden it.'

Sherlock took a breath and looked down at John with his eyes of black pools, darkly fringed facial disk even messier looking up close but not ragged.

'The hollow she had given birth to an owlet she barely got to know, a mother never forgets were her owlets first cracked their egg.'

'That's true.' John blinked; his own mother always knew exactly where she nested. Maybe it was a maternal thing?

'It has been widely known that owls have something in their gizzards that is similar to that of magnets – a build up of Flecks in our gizzards that we don't yarp up.'

'Okay, so bits of metal that may or may not have special powers. Sounds like Nachtmagen to me.' John huffed, sandy blonde feathers ruffled up.

'It is Science, but to the simple folk of Kuneer I suppose it would seem to be the work of Hagfiends.' Sherlock drawled. John glared at the barn owl at that comment.

'Well, we simple folk from Kuneer know not to bring dangerous objects with us in flight. If you felt the effects while flying, you would've gone yeep.' John didn't mention the fact the barn owl would've fallen into the sea, possibly eaten. While the barn owl only thought of his body as transport being eaten was not a good thing.

'I hadn't thought of that…' Sherlock said thoughtfully.

'You have to be the smartest but dumbest owl I have ever met.' John churred; Sherlock looked offended but started to churr as well.

'So she was trying to hide this.'

'She was not trying to hide it, it was an item that the murderer would've had.'

'So she gave us the means…'

'To find her murderer, the creature would have the flecks still – and this reacts when flecks are near.'

'But Sherlock, we are affected by it even without the flecks.' John pointed out, 'How would we carry it?'

'I knew the moment I saw you…' Sherlock began joyfully, 'We have need for your battle claws, my dear elf owl.'

John took a weary talon backwards as Sherlock hunched over, beak almost touching John's.

'And we have need for the metal that the black smiths call 'Mu'.' Sherlock's eyes gleamed.

'Now?' John asked. The sun was still out.

'Now would be nice, John.' Sherlock grinned. John felt another sleepless day to come.

* * *

><p><span>TBC? When I have the time and the patience.<span>

If I had finished the episode one in one chapter this would be over 15 pages long :/

Please read and review.


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